What Happened, Happened
by Lil Miss Snarker
Summary: It didn't happen. Couldn't have. Because as long as it didn't happen it was okay. He could deal with a dream, with a nightmare. He did it all the time. Warning: Contains reference to rape and strong language. Not for little Gleeks.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Puck (unfortunately) does not belong to me

What Happened, Happened

Chapter One

_It didn't happen._

It had become a mantra for him. Over and over and over.

_It didn't happen.  
_  
The first thing he thought when he woke up and what he'd been repeating in his head ever since. It didn't happen. Couldn't have. Because as long as it didn't happen it was okay. He could deal with a dream, with a nightmare. He did it all the time. His own-about his father, about Beth, more and more about Beth after the day she was born and basically ripped from his arms. Sarah's-she'd wake up screaming about some monster or another almost every night and after each viewing of _Schindler's List, _would run into his room convinced they were about to be taken away by the fucking Nazis.

He could deal with a dream. So it was just a dream. So he woke up in some random dudes apartment sick as all hell with only fuzzy half memories of what had happened the night before. Who gives a fuck? What he remembered was a dream, there had been no one on top of him the night before, no unbearable crushing weight, no ripping pain of someone forces themselves ins-_it didn't happen._

It didn't. So he didn't have to worry about it. He didn't need to see a doctor, even though he was still bleeding. He didn't need to get tested, even though he knew that no one had been using a condom last night. He didn't need to talk to anyone, even though the secret was killing him. Because the secret wasn't real. None of it was real.

_It didn't happen.  
_  
He was hyperventilating now, as he walked back home in the early hours of the morning, trying to figure out why he'd gone to that stupid club when he barely liked that band anyway, trying to figure out why he'd decided to walk there instead of taking his fucking car. How'd he gotten in anyway? What kind of fuckhead bouncer would actually think his I.D. was real? The guy in the picture was _clearly_ Mexican.

And that's what he decided to focus on, the dumbass bouncer, not the hands, not the hot wet breath on the back of his neck that smelled like smoke and whiskey, not the pain. And why? Because none of it _fucking _happened.

By some grace of God he'd managed to walk away with his wallet and his keys. Quietly, at six o'clock in the morning, he unlocked his door and stumbled inside. Mom and Sarah wouldn't be up for another hour but surely the sound of running water wouldn't disturb them too much. He climbed into the shower, every available light in the bathroom on so that not a crevice of dark could enter the room.

The hot water beat down like a whirl wind. Somehow he had ended up sitting and as he looked down, he saw the pink trail running from him, through the water, and down the dream. He was crying. He promised himself after Beth's birth he'd never cry again. He knows he would never break that promise over a stupid dream. And that's when it finally accured to him.

_It happened._


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Puck (unfortunately) does not belong to me

What Happened, Happened

Chapter Two 

"There are no shortcuts, no do-overs-What happened, happened. All of this matters."  
-Jack Shephard, _Lost_

_The Jack Rabbit. _That's where it had all started. That god damned club, or at least what passed as a club in Lima. When it came down to it it was just a dingy bar with a small stage in the back that was occasionally used for bands but mostly used for Bingo nights. And he had no earthly idea why it was named after a wild animal that he seriously doubted had ever been found hopping around Ohio. But, like he had said, any idea, no matter how fake, would do and once you were inside they didn't card you for drinks. Needless to say, it was a pretty popular hub for stupid teenagers looking for a buzz and, now that he thought about it, creepers looking to drug and fuck stupid teenagers.

Puck wasn't a complete idiot, despite what he knew half the school and the majority of the glee club assumed, he knew something got slipped into his drink. His memory of the...event was way too hazy for the half a beer he had downed while at the bar and ever since he walked out of that dank motel room he'd been nursing the worse headache of his life and he'd thrown up three times since he got home. Once in the shower. That one was gross as hell.

When he'd gotten out of the shower he almost immediately crawled into bed, still with every light he could find turned on to the highest level. It crossed his mind that a only a fairly big pussy would be afraid of the dark at almost sixteen years old but at that particular moment it was kinda hard to care. At seven thirty Sarah tried to shake him awake as per usual but he wouldn't budge. He told his mom he was sick. Normally she'd think he was faking but he was sure he looked like absolute shit so she just let it go. The thought that usual flicked through his mind around this time in the week did but in a very different way than usual: _Thank God it's Saturday._

* * *

"Noah, Mrs. Gale called, she wants you to come over and clean her pool," his mother's yelling from the bottom of the stairs pulled him once again out of the state midway between sleep and awake that he'd been in. He wanted to be annoyed with her because, well frankly she was annoying, but he was honestly just grateful for the distraction from the horror movies playing on the inside of his eyelids.

"Mom, I'm sick!" he shouted back down, realizing even as he said the words how horse his voice is.

"Noah, we need the money," she stated simply in her typical 'I'm not trying to make you guilty, I'm just saying' voice. All the money from the "pool cleaning business" had been going to Quinn over the past couple of months and he knew his mom had only been excepting it begrudgingly. And as disgusting as he felt, and as much as he kind of just wanted to curl up into a ball and die right now (God, he sounded like a fucking girl, or worse, Hummel), his mom had successfully guilt tripped him. So, with the remaining strength he had he managed to push himself out of bed and pull on some clothes. And right before he walked downstairs he spotted the clothes he'd been wearing_before _lying on the bathroom floor. He grabbed them in a burst of aggression and pitched them into the trashcan on his way out the door.

* * *

"Noah, it's awfully hot out there, why don't you come in and have a glass of lemonade." Okay, fuck being manly or what made him a pussy or a girl or whatever. Right at that moment he really wanted to freakin' cry. He knew why Mrs. Gale was really calling him in. He was tired, he was still bleeding on and off, and he was sore all over, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was have sex. All of which were things he could've said. But sometimes he got the feeling he didn't really know how to say 'no.' He wasn't even sure he had the night before. God, now that thought was sickening.

He hadn't been inside for more than a couple of seconds before she was all over him. They were on the couch and she was straddling him mackin' on him like crazy. He wanted to throw up. The weight on him was making it hard to breath and he kept on getting these flashes of half memories.

_"You like that right, you little bitch?"  
_  
Oh God, oh fucking God he couldn't breath. And before he knew what was even going on he was on the floor practically convulsing. Mrs. Gale was freaking the fuck out. She kept on muttering about how this was God punishing her and I was bringing the devil into her house. When a lady is as hot as she is it's really easy to forget the crazy bubbling under the surface.

It's at that moment that Mr. Gale comes home and he's suddenly really thankful that neither one of them had their clothes off yet and this still came across pretty innocent. He was fading in and out of consciousness, still trying to block out those same fucking horror movies in his mind, when he saw Mr. Gale leaning over him.

"What the hell happened?"

"I don't know. I was paying him and all of the sudden he just started shaking."

"He's having a panic attack," It was at that moment Puck remembered Mr. Gale was actually Dr. Gale, "Noah? Can you here me? Noah I need you to slow your breathing or you're going to lose consciousness. I need you to calm down. Can you do that for me? Noah?"

It was kind of useless though. He was way too far gone at that point. And even through the panic and the difficulty breathing and the flashbacks, randomly, the last thought that entered his brain was that Dr. Gale was really very nice and he should probably not screw around with the poor guy's wife anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Puck (unfortunately) does not belong to me.

What Happened, Happened  
Chapter Three 

"There are no shortcuts, no do-overs-What happened, happened. All of this matters."  
-Jack Shephard, _Lost_

It had been over a week since the...since the incident. Dr. Gale had had a long talk with him: asked him if he was okay, if anything was going on. He really needed to stop sleeping with that guy's wife. Contrary to popular belief, Puck wasn't doing his best to encourage infidelity over the whole of Lima. The majority of the older women he slept with were divorced or widows. There were only like two besides Mrs. Gale that were actually married. Not that anyone at school, including most of his friends, would believe that.

Ever since then he felt like he was dead everywhere he went. He was actually cleaning pools and not anything else around the neighborhood (much to the disappointment of the majority of his clients), he had no interest in being out and about around town and so he was actually going to every class he had everyday. This had completely shocked his teachers but they got over it pretty quickly when they realized he was completely in his own little world. Every movement felt difficult, felt sick. He was still sore and even through his desperation to keep a secret he knew he should probably see a doctor. The fucker definitely didn't use a condom and the last thing he needed was to find out he had AIDS six months from now.

But all that being said, Puck felt like he was doing pretty well, considering. Or, at least, Puck's definition of well, which amounted to bottling up every feeling he had about the situation and spending so much time staring off into space there was a distinct possibility he was going to turn into the male version of Brittany. He hadn't cried since that morning in the shower. He hadn't freaked since the thing at the Gales. And really, the important thing was to keep people from finding out. Because it may be real, but as long as no one knew it was, he could still pretend.

This whole approach was pretty much killed after glee that Friday. Schue had this idea that they should put on an end of the year concert so every time they'd met since regionals everyone had been trying to figure out what numbers to do. The only thing they'd decided for sure so far was that they were vetoing any duets between Rachel and Finn for fear of them ending with the two near dry humping on the stage.

After yet another unproductive meeting, Puck was staying behind to pack up his guitar when Schue suddenly closed the door behind them. "Puck, can I talk to you for a minute?"

_Fuck. Fuck! Ugh, calm the hell down, Puck, how on earth could he possibly know what happened?_ "I guess."

"You've been acting..." Schue stopped, like he was trying to figure out the right words, and then started again, "I'm worried about you."

"...Why?"

"The way you've been acting the past week or so. You seem-"

_Distant? Upset? Like I want to fucking die?  
_  
"Depressed."

_Oh, yeah, that to. _"Mmhm."

"I was wondering if you were doing okay, you know? With giving up the baby."

_Beth? He thought this was about Bet__h?_ God, the days where that was what he was most upset about seemed far away, but in reality, he guessed, it was only the week before.

"I think I'm okay with that actually. Open adoption, you know? Get to see her whenever I want." He licked his lips, the felt so dry.

"If that's not the problem then why do you sound completely dead to the world right now." Schue clamped his jaw shut. It was pretty clear he hadn't really meant to say that out loud.

_Oh well, too late now.  
_  
"I don't," he said forcefully. Actually, that was more emotion than he had put into his voice all week.

"Puck..." He was using his condescending teacher voice. Mr. Schue never used his condescending teacher voice. Was he really getting that bad? No. No no no no no. He was absolutely not talking about this. He'd excepted it happened. That was enough. He was done. The end. Thank you for playing. Done. Period.

"I'm fine." God, not even he believed that one.

"Did something happen?"

_.  
_  
"Mr. Schue, I really just want to go home."

He nodded his head in resignation, "Go on then." Puck let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and headed to the door. His hand was on the handle when, "Puck?"

_Ugh. _"Yeah, Mr. Schue?"

"You know you can always talk to me, right?"

"...Yeah, Mr. Schue."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Puck (unfortunately) does not belong to me.

What Happened, Happened  
Chapter Four

A/N: This ended up a little more mushy than I intended, sorry.

"There are no shortcuts, no do-overs-What happened, happened. All of this matters."  
-Jack Shephard, _Lost_

This is what the logical part of his brain was telling him:

1) He was in trouble and he really needed to talk to someone, or at least say what happened out loud.  
2) He needed to see a doctor.  
3) This fucker was going to keep hurting people unless he reported it.

This was the reality of the situation:

1) He didn't want to say it out loud, he didn't want to deal with the embarrassment of telling someone, but he knew that eventually he was going to run out of options if he ever wanted to get better.  
2) He went the free clinic, lied and said he was eighteen so they wouldn't call his mom (they also took his Mexican I.D., Lima was surprisingly lax on their standards with minors). He got stitches, and by some sort of odd miracle he was completely STD free (he should feel better about that, but a part of him really wanted some sort of proof of what happened to justify how fucked up he was now).  
3) No fucking talking the cops, no trial, no nothing. That was one he was holding to, he didn't care what was healthy and what was responsible. He just...couldn't.

Basically all this had added up to was him being slightly healthier physically and drawing even more into himself mentally. By this point it wasn't just Schue, the whole damn Glee club had noticed something was fucked with him. Some of them assumed it was about Beth, some seemed like they new better. He knew Quinn knew better. She'd seen him with Beth and knew that even though things weren't ideal he was dealing. He knew she was worried about him. She hadn't said a word about it, God bless her, but he knew her better then most people thought, and he knew she was worried. Part of him really loved that though. That she cared.

He had expected Rachel, who was incapable of not meddling, to be the first one after Schue to ask him what the fuck was wrong with him. But it was really Finn who ended up approaching him exactly two weeks after...it happened. In retrospect, he guessed that made sense. They weren't quite okay yet, but they were getting there. And even if they weren't, he's pretty sure if Finn was acting the way he was he'd make sure he was okay. That's a lie, he wouldn't even notice.

_I'm so full of shit. I'm such a bad person.  
_  
"Puck?" They were in the locker room after gym. Puck had specifically waited in the bathroom 'till he thought everyone else was gone before even approaching the shower. Obviously, Finn had been waiting for him.

"Yeah, Man?"

_Oh my God, I sound pathetic.  
_  
"What's wrong with you?" _God forbid Finn even try to be subtle._Though, to be fair, Puck was almost certain he didn't actually know how. He wanted to tell him to fuck off, or that he was fine like he had Schue. But he was tired, and sad, and really messed up right now and even though he didn't want to talk about it at all, he really wanted his best friend (which was possibly the gayest thing he'd ever thought. Ever).

"..." Oh fuck, he could already feel the watery, pathetic part of his voice coming up, the part that made it sound like he was on the verge of tears, because he was, "Something...something bad happened."

Finn just stared at him for a minute. For as slow as Finn could be, he could also be very hard to read sometimes. Puck didn't know whether he was going to walk away or ask him to talk about it. In the end, though, he didn't do either. Puck figured Finn knew him well enough not to do either. He sort of awkwardly approached Puck, testing his reaction before patting him on the back in a way the two would usually deem a "manly hug."

But the actual compassionate contact, touch that wasn't dirty, and came from someone that cared. Well, something inside, whatever was holding him together by sheer force alone, broke in Puck and before either of them knew what was going on he they were full on hugging and he was sobbing into Finn's neck.

It was five minutes later that Finn managed to say the most beautiful words in the English language: "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Thanks," he said after a minute, furiously wiping his eyes and pulling out of the hug, sitting on one of the benches and thanking God they'd done this before he'd started getting undressed, "But...I kinda think I want to."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Puck (unfortunately) does not belong to me.

What Happened, Happened  
Chapter Five

A/N: Okay, it's relatively short and it's dialogue heavy, but it is an update. Give me a break, okay, it's the summer after graduation, I've been busy.

"There are no shortcuts, no do-overs-What happened, happened. All of this matters."  
-Jack Shephard, _Lost_

They'd left the locker room almost immediately for Puck's car. He'd gone to this school long enough to know how high the eaves dropping rate was around there and really wasn't willing to risk it. Pretty much the second he opened his mouth it poured out. Fucking word vomit, man. Once he said one thing he couldn't stop until he was done. And since he'd finished, he and Finn had been sitting in silence for about five minutes. Puck just didn't feel like ever speaking again and Finn was somewhere in between being in shock and throwing up. Like Puck said, Finn was hard to read.

"So..." Eloquence has never been Finn's strong suit, "No cops?"

"No."

"But-."

_"Dude!"_ Puck couldn't even believe they were discussing this, "The second I go to the cops everyone knows and I can't-" he was starting to hyperventilate again.

_Fuck._

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Interjected Finn, placing a hand on Puck's shoulder, only to have his friend jerk away, "Okay, okay, dude, just-calm down, okay?"

"You have to promise you won't make me go to the cops," Puck finally choked out, "Swear. Swear on our Brohood."

There was a brief pause, "Puck, not to be a dick, but the last thing that we swore on our Brohood was that we'd never let a girl get between us. And then you got my girlfriend pregnant. I think the validity of that whole thing's kinda shot."

_",,,Validity?"_

"Rachel's been texting me a new word every day. She says it'll help me on the PSAT."

In spite of himself, Puck started to laugh, "Berry is nothing if not dedicated, huh?"

"Pretty much," responded Finn with a quick chuckle before turning serious again.

"I'm not gonna make you report it."

"I know."

"But I do think the more people you talk to the better. Or at least I think that's right," Finn had his usual confused look on his face, "The real experience I've had with anything like this up until now has been watching Lifetime movies with my mom and _Degrassi_ with Rachel...and that was almost all chicks."

Puck stared at Finn for a minute, giving him a look that clearly asked him if he was serious, and quickly shutting him up. The sat in silence for another minute.

"Seventh is almost over," Puck finally said in the monotone voice he'd been slipping into more and more lately.

"Oh," said Finn, realizing what Puck was trying to say, "If you don't want to go to Glee we could probably come up with something to tell Schue."

"I think I'd rather be with everyone."

"I think that'd a good thing, man," said Finn, a sad smile sort of beginning to form.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."


End file.
